We Cry
by amourdemavie39
Summary: Peter never shot Adler. Now it's a race against the clock to save him. See full warnings inside. Rated A VERY STRONG T! Review please. NO SLASH
1. Fix You

Hello! I just watched the season finale, and might I say it was AWESOME! I liked the ending too.

Anyways, I thought about this after I watched the NCIS episode "Truth or Consequences" which is an awesome episode by the way.

Summary: What if Peter hadn't made it in time, and Adler shot Neal? Warnings: A considerable amount of violence, torture, language, and some gruesome scenes.

_**Turn back now if this is not your thing!**_

Rated: A very strong T!

Genre: Angst/Tragedy

Words: 1,356+

Inspiration: As usual, Coldplay's "Fix You"

For those who have chosen to continue, please review and enjoy this story

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(each chapter title is a Coldplay lyric)

Chapter One: When you Lose Something that you Can't Replace.

"Damn it!" growled Peter. "Where the hell is Neal?" The smoke was rising further into the sky, and the air began to smell of sulfur. Fire trucks sounded in the distance.

"Boss, do you want us to go searching?" Diana asked, drawing her gun.

"No, stay here. And be prepared in case I call for back up." He commanded, the frustration and worry setting in. Peter sighed.

Peter jogged off, gun in hand, in the direction of the smoke.

"Neal!" He called, his voice sounding angry.

He called a few more times, with no response, the worry beginning to show in his voice the final time he called. His voice echoed off the buildings each time he shouted.

The smoke clouded his vision, and made him cough. He stumbled around in the dark for a few moments. His foot landed in something sticky. He looked down, and his breath caught in his throat.

The liquid was reddish and sticky. It was blood, which formed a pool around a bloodied black fedora. The rim of the hat was drenched in blood. There was a smeared mark of blood right next to the pool. A shell casing was near the hat, which indicated a shooter. Thoughts raced through Peter's head, considering the different situations Neal had gotten himself into. He continued to search around the streets. There were several more blood stains heading north, and a bloodied hand print on the side of the building. Neal's anklet had been cut next to the handprint, and it lay broken and beat up in the dust and debris.

Peter felt vomit rise in his throat, and anger boil around deep inside of him. Neal had gone off to play hero, and had gotten his ass kicked for it. Now he was gone, possibly with a bullet wound in him. But what scared Peter was the fear that his friend wasn't alive. The fear of the unknown.

The building erupted fire once more, and pieces of paintings rained down around him. Peter didn't even bother to duck. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the handprint. A piece of painting landed beside him, and he looked down.

The piece was a face of a beautiful blue eyed woman, whom Peter presumed to be Kate. He bent down and picked it up, pocketing the piece. A few feet away, he heard a cell phone ringing. He raced to find it.

It was Neal's Blackberry. He quickly pressed the send button.

"Adler. What the hell do you want? Where is Neal?" He shouted into the phone.

"Slow down there, Agent Burke. I have no intention of harming Neal, as long as I receive what I want." Vincent answered back, coolly.

"Damn it Adler. What do you want?"

"I want what was taken from me. I will give you three hours to find it, and return it to a location which I will send you via Neal's phone."

"And what if I don't do it?" Peter held his breath awaiting a reply.

A mangled scream came over the line. Peter sucked in a breath.

"Stop!" He screamed, "Stop it! I will give you what you want."

"Three hours, or Neal dies." The line was cut off.

Peter dialed another number, "Diana. I need back up. We have a man MIA."

"Sending my team over now. Who is it?" Her voiced sounded slightly concerned.

"I will tell you when you get here. Hurry, please."

"On it, Boss." She shut off the phone.

A couple minutes later, the crew arrived guns ablaze.

"Did you find him boss?" asked Diana, holstering her gun.

Peter looked at her. The look on his face was one of anguish.

"Neal's gone. He's been kidnapped, by Adler. They are torturing him, Diana."

A gunshot cracked in the distance, and Peter felt like he was taking a bullet to his heart.

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Pain erupted like a raging fire in his ribcage, and Neal unwillingly awoke from his restless slumber. Trying to quiet the pain, Neal tried to reach for his chest, but his hands were roughly tied behind his back. His wrists felt blistered, and rubbed raw. The pain in his chest was almost unbearable, and Neal wanted to succumb back into the blissful unconsciousness.

Neal looked down, and saw that his white dress shirt was drenched in blood. The blood was clotting near his ribcage. Seeing his own blood made Neal feel sick, but Neal refused to throw up, and swallowed hard. Black spots danced across his vision.

Forcing himself to stay awake, he surveyed the prison that he was in, and found that he was stuck inside a musty boat cabin, tied to a pole. There was another person in the room, tied to the pole adjacent to Neal's.

"Hello?" Neal whispered, annoyed at how weak his voice sounded.

A moan emanated from the figure. "Hello?" A feminine voice whispered back.

"Who are you?"

"Violet. Who are you?"

"Neal. Where are we?" He questioned in a whisper.

The door to the cabin opened, and in walked Vincent Adler, gun in hand.

"Stop talking, both of you." Adler said angrily.

He looked at the girl, "Neal, I see you met Violet. You two will be seeing quite a lot of each other." He gave a cruel grin.

"Go to Hell, Vincent." Neal whispered.

In response, Adler slapped Neal across his face with the butt of his gun. Neal felt the bones in his nose crack. He winced in pain. Blood dribbled to his chin.

"I'm just warming up Caffrey." He said, coolly. "You are going to tell me why you blew up the art, or I am going to shoot Violet." He cocked his gun at the girl.

"No don't shoot her. I will tell you why." He pleaded. He desperately tried to think of something, not wanting to jeopardize the life of Tobie.

"I'm waiting. I don't have all day you know."

"It wasn't me, Vincent. Someone else set it up!" Neal's voice was still a whisper, pain radiating from his chest every time he spoke.

Vincent looked extremely angry. "Damn it, Caffrey!" he shouted, pulling his gun. He fired a shot at Violet, who cried out, blood blossoming from her shoulder.

"Now it's your turn" He took out a knife, and slash Neal across his chest. Blood spurted from the wound.

Pain enclosed around Neal's chest, and he felt a scream rising in his throat. His vision was cloudy.

He saw Violet slump to her side, her dark brown eyes glassy.

The edges of his vision were rimmed in fire, and Neal let loose a tortured scream, and sunk back into the darkness.

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So, how'd you like it? REVIEW! please? :)


	2. Chapter 2

Hey you guys! I hope that you liked my story!

Thanks to:

MavCat,Gloworm41**,** randomchick51, Neal4ever, Anti-Social-Turtle, LadyLuck07, littel devil 1, Kathryn Marie Black, Sophie Fatale, blueland10, JennyLB, Iuliana, , Squee-bunny, TheElfQueen, stargatesg1973, Devils-Advocates33, Ronni, Street Smart, jules1993, Kay, NyxSerpent, ...me., Coles Guardian, mizzstargirl x, AgnesSophia, endo7, and morgo7kc.

Sorry if I forgot anyone, you guys might have given me something after I wrote this.

Rating: Still a very strong T

Genre: Angst/Tragedy

Word Count:1,665

Parings: None.

Disclaimer: None of it is mine!

Okay, on with it!

(Thoughts are in italics)

I am introducing some new characters in this chapter. They are disposable, so if you do not like them, I can kill them off, just say the word.

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2h, 30 minutes left.

Peter sat at his desk, his unseeing eyes staring at the wall, demanding answers. His fingers tapped impatiently on his desk.

He had a stroke of luck about twenty minutes ago, realizing that what Adler wanted was the treasure. Then he ran into a problem. Where the hell was it?

His thoughts wandered as he considered his options.

_How could I let this happen? He was my damn responsibility, and he wandered off. I should throw him back behind bars for this one. _

His anger turned to worry, and sadness. Peter found himself praying to God to help him find the young con.

Peter shut his eyes for a moment, and let the emotions swirl inside of him. Part of him wanted to cry over his lost friend and partner, and part of him wanted to nail Neal's ass to the wall for doing something so reckless.

A knock on the door prompted Peter to return to the task at hand. He looked up to see his "Probie" Diana standing at the door, looking worried and weary.

"Boss, someone's here to see you." Diana's eyes were a bit red, which meant she felt the same way about Neal. Peter gave her a strained smile.

"Alright. Send them in." As she turned to leave, he stopped her. "Diana, we will find him. Now go on, get a little rest. I'll call you if something changes."

"Okay, boss." She managed a weak smile. Then she quickly composed herself, and went for the visitor.

A young woman dressed in a pantsuit and black heels breezed into Peter's office. Her dark brown hair was swept up into a bun, and her vibrant blue eyes were lightly played up by a dash of makeup. She stood near the door, and opened her mouth to address the agent.

"Agent Burke, I presume." Her voice rang out, strong and clear.

"Yes. And you are?" Peter asked cautiously.

"Special Agent Evelyn Todd. I'm from the Missing Persons division in the FBI." (A/N: I have absolutely no idea if this even exists, I just made it up. Sorry.) She stuck out her hand.

Peter met her hand with a strong grip. He felt better knowing the woman was one of their own. "Pleasure to meet you. Let me fill you in. Our missing man is Neal Caffrey." The woman stiffened at the name, which did not go unnoticed by Peter. "Do we have a problem, Agent Todd?"

"Not at all, the name sounded familiar." Evelyn did not relax.

"Well you might know him, it wouldn't surprise me. He's an ex-con. He seems to have a way with women. Beats me. Anyways, he has been captured by a man named Vincent Adler." He held up a picture.

Evelyn's eyes flashed at the photo. "Tell me what I need to do. I want that bastard dead." Her voice was steely calm, with a slight edge to her tone.

"Well you can go and coordinate with Agent Diana Barrigan, we have a search and rescue team at hand."

"I will have Adler on a metal slab down in autopsy, with a bullet in the chest before the sun sets."

Evelyn turned to walk out to the door of the office, her hands squeezed into fists at her side.

"Hold on there, Agent Todd. I want him dead as much as the next guy, but you seem to have some personal connection to this man. May I ask what it is?"

Evelyn sighed, her hand on the doorknob. She took a deep breath and turned to face the older man. Her blue eyes were stormy.

"My sister is dead because of this… man. I don't want your agent dead too." Her voice cracked a bit.

"You don't mean that you are…" Realization struck Peter like a bolt of lightening. It all became clear to Peter who this woman was.

"Yeah. Kate was my sister, Agent Burke." She gave a weak smile.

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Something was shaking Neal awake. He desperately wanted to open his eyes, to see what was going on, but the pain in his chest was too much to bear, and Neal was being pulled back into the direction of unconsciousness.

A voice cut through Neal's personal hell like a knife. "Neal. Wake up please."

The voice was unknown. It was strong, yet definitely a woman. It was soft, yet commanding, all at the same time.

The person continued to shake Neal. He now wanted to wake up, just to stop the insistent shaking.

Finally, with a sudden surge of strength, Neal awakened. At first, his surroundings were blurry, but slowly, the mist cleared, and a woman appeared in his line of vision.

And she was pretty. Her hair was jet black, and her eyes were an emerald green. She had a black hooded jacket pulled over her hair, a pair of black stretchy pants, and black shoes. She was dressed for sneaking around in the night, so he assumed that Adler was not aware that she was here.

Neal's senses came to, and he found that he had his hands behind his back, handcuffed to the girl, Violet. He didn't even know if she was alive, much less awake.

The woman noticed Neal's distress, and addressed him. "She's alive. In bad shape, but alive. You both need a hospital, but seeing as far as your current situation goes, I don't think that I could get you out of here with out disturbing Vincent."

She pulled a package of antibiotic ointment from her black bag tied around her shoulder. She gently lifted Neal's ruined dress shirt, and gave a tiny, almost inaudible gasp.

"What has he done to you?" She mumbled, mostly to herself. Next, she pulled out a pair of metal medical tongs. Scared about what she might use them for, Neal's blue eyes flashed in fear.

"I have to, Neal. If we don't get the bullet out, there will be serious damage." She removed a black rag from her satchel. "I need you to put this over your mouth. Can you do that?"

Neal nodded. He carefully took the rag, and balled it up against his mouth with his arm. Pain screamed from his chest wound, but the pain was refreshing, and sharpened Neal's senses.

"On three, I am going to pull it out. If you have to scream, please, into the towel. Got it?"

Another nod. Neal prepared himself.

The woman counted to three, and Neal experienced pain that reached new heights. His vision went black, and he fought with every ounce of strength that he had left not to cry out. He was being pulled with such force back into the darkness, that the woman had to slap him to keep him awake.

"Neal! You've got to stay with me! If you fall asleep, I cannot help you!" The woman shouted at Neal in a whisper.

Tears streamed down Neal's face, and a shiver went down his spine. But somehow he managed to stay awake.

The woman applied more antibiotic cream, and wrapped his shoulder with gauze. She gave him several strained smiles, but even in excruciating pain Neal could see that his injuries were worrying her. She opened his mouth, and put in a couple of tablets that Neal recognized to be Advil. She gave him some water and forced him to swallow.

She managed a smile, "It's no morphine, but it should take the edge off a little bit. Maybe."

Neal wanted to thank her, but had no strength left to call out. Footsteps were heard approaching in the hallway, and Neal turned towards the door.

When Neal turned back, to thank the woman, there was nothing in the room but air. He wondered where she could have gone, but spotted the ladder in the dim light and received his answer.

The door burst open, and revealed Vincent Adler holding a cell phone to his ear. He seemed calm, but Neal knew the other side of violent man.

"Seems like your FBI friend doesn't know where the treasure is either. Do you want to tell him where it is?" His face contorted with anger.

He put the phone near Neal. He faintly heard Peter's voice calling out to him, asking if he was all right. All Neal could focus on was the gun that Adler had pointed at him.

Neal tried to shake his head. A dull ache pulsed in his head, leaving him dizzy and nauseous.

"Well Agent Burke. He doesn't know where it is either. What a surprise. Your time is running out, Peter. Neal is fading by the minute." Vincent put his gun away, and pulled out his shiny silver knife. He clicked off the phone.

He tucked the knife right under Neal's chin, and almost immediately, Neal felt the blood trickle out.

Neal squeezed his eyes out, and said a silent prayer.

_I miss you Kate. Dear God, please let me see her. _

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All right! Phew! That's done! I hope that you like it! As always, feedback is much appreciated!

How'd you like the new characters? Let me know!

PS: Most of the stuff that the woman did to Neal was medical BS, and probably not truly real. Sorry again, and I apologize to any doctors out there, but I am most certainly not a doctor. And probably never will be.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello All! Sorry it took me so long to get this updated, but I have had a lot of going on this week. So I will get on with it. As you may have noticed, the agent's name is Evelyn Todd. That is just my little tribute to NCIS. :)

Genre: Angst/Tragedy

Rating: A VERY strong T

Parings: None.

Disclaimer: None of it is mine, otherwise we wouldn't have to wait so long for the show to start back up again!

Word Count: something over 1000, I think.

Enjoy!

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The minutes ticked away, the clock racing towards zero. Peter had only a short time left before Adler expected the treasure, and he couldn't waste another minute. This was the kind of war with causalities.

He had the Harvard Team in the conference room, pouring over potential places that the treasure could be located, but every time, the team seemed to come up empty.

Peter had been thrust into a numb state of being, where every little thing pissed him off. The phone call with Vincent had really thrown Peter for a loop, and caused him to kick his worry up a notch, every minute that passed hurt Peter a little more.

The girl, Evelyn had been a great help. She monitored the Harvard Team, and got Peter coffee.

She walked into his office with a cup of coffee, looking grim.

"Any news, Agent Todd?" Peter asked, sipping his own black coffee. Bitterness overwhelmed him, and he set the cup down on the table, making a slightly disgusted face.

"We thought we had a suitable place. When I sent a couple of agents to check it out, there was nothing there. But we did find this pearl necklace." She held up an evidence bag, containing a stand of crème pearls.

"Good. Good that's a start. We can work with that. Meet me in the conference room in ten."

Peter sighed, realizing that it was time that he clued Elle in. He hadn't done it already because she had been stressed out over an important party with a high profile guest list, that Peter didn't want her to worry even more. But now, as they were getting closer to the drop, he had decided to tell her.

Slowly, Peter's fingers dialed her cell phone. He had never dreaded hearing her voice, but now, he was praying that she didn't pick up.

"Hello, this is Elizabeth Burke speaking." His luck ran out.

"Elle?" Peter said, defeated.

"Peter? Hon? What's wrong?" Worry crept into her voice.

"Elle… It's… Neal." He finally spit out. An audible gasp came from the other side of the line.

"What's wrong?" She repeated, her voice rising an octave. "Where is he?" Peter could hear her gathering her things, preparing to leave.

"Elle? Neal… he got kidnapped." Peter winced, realizing how weak his voice sounded.

The rustling noises stopped. Elle sat down in a chair. He knew she was upset. He waited a moment before talking again.

"Hon? Hey, our top priority is finding Neal. We have our best agents here, all dedicated to finding Caffrey." Peter said his voice filled with concern.

Elle took a shaky breath, and in a quiet voice replied, "Bring him home."

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Adler loomed over him, like a dark cloud. His knife was held mid-air, poised to kill. In his eyes was murder, and revenge.

"I am going to ask you one last time Neal." Adler enunciated each word, as if he was talking to a small child.

Neal took a shallow, painful breath, and looked away from Vincent. Adler took the flat edge of the knife, and used it to bring Neal's face to look at his.

"Where the hell is the treasure?" His eyes were steely cold, his voice hard.

Neal's eyes, usually confident and mischievous, betrayed his fear, which he had so carefully buried inside of him.

"I told you, Vincent. I don't know." Neal's voice was quiet, and he spoke slowly.

"The hell, you don't!" He shouted at him, causing Violet to awake with a start.

Violet had been moved, and was now slumped against the parallel tremors shaking her petite body. Her dark brown eyes were glassy, and pain and fear showing in them. But there was a glimmer of hope beneath all of the torture that reflected in her eyes. She took a painful breath and shuddered, her shackled hands trying desperately to reach out to Neal for support. A single solitary tear ran down her dirty cheek, leaving a trail of clean skin.

"Don't hurt him, Vincent." She croaked out, her voice sounding as if she had been gargling nails.

Adler threw back his head and laughed, villainously, as if Violet's request had humoured him. He looked at Neal, death shining in his eyes.

He drew his knife from his side, and brought it to Neal's dirty cheek. He teased him first with the blade, and then quickly, he slashed Neal across his cheek.

Neal tried to contain the scream that was built up inside of him, but the pain of the blow was so severe, that he cried out in agony.

Adler was not finished though. He brought the bloodied knife to where he had shot Neal, and slashed a line down the rest of his arm.

Violet cried out, upon seeing this. Neal crumpled against the wall in pain, the edges of his vision were singed red. Pain raced through his veins, and darkness grabbed him by the throat thrusting him downwards.

He took one last look at Adler, who was still standing over him, Neal's blood tainting his knife blade.

Neal realized that he was seeing his own death in the flesh

Adler uttered a single question. "Do you want to die Neal Caffrey?"

Neal wanted so desperately to say no. To fight back, with some impossible strength that he needed to survive. He wanted to kill Adler, right where he stood.

His pain was overwhelming, and he knew that he had to fight, in spite of the torture. Every minute was a constant battle for survival, and Neal had beaten against it, yet it still was not enough.

He found himself forming the words on his tongue, and they spilled out before he could stop them.

"Yes."

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Again, sorry for the long period of time that it took to update, but I hope that you liked it. As always, reviews are much appreciated! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Hello faithful readers! Thank you guys for all the hits to my story! There were not as many reviews as I had hoped, but thank you to all that did review!

Genre: Angst/Tragedy

Rating: Still a strong T!

Characters: Neal, Peter, Elle, Evelyn, Violet, Vincent Adler, and the doctor lady, whose name may be revealed in this chapter…

Parings: None, as far as I can tell.

Warnings: Note the rating! Strong T! Neal whumpage, violence, torture, the whole shebang. Just so you are warned! Also: I am including some medical treatments that may be or are probably incorrect. So, sorry to any doctors, of people of medicine out there, my medical references are BS.

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine. Sorry guys!

Enjoy and S'il vous plaites! REVIEW!

PS: Tomorrow is my 18th Birthday! As a present to me, please drop me a review! Yes?

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Peter rubbed the crème pearls between his thumb and his index finger, contemplating the situation.

The sounds of Neal's mangled scream played over and over in his head. He could not even imagine the damage or the pain that had been inflicted on the con man. All he could think about was the possibility of what seemed inevitable at the time. The pale and broken face and glassy unseeing blue eyes of his partner became eerily lifelike in his mind. _No _he thought, _I can't let that happen._

Peter tried to appear strong in front of his team, but the truth of the matter was that this was just a façade. On the inside was anger, turmoil, and desperation.

Peter was sitting at his desk in his office. He leaned forward, and placed his head in his hands, resting his elbows on the table. He took a few deep breaths, and continued thinking.

It wasn't that Peter was afraid of not finding Neal, it was the fact that if he didn't find him, he would lose the man he considered to be the closest thing that he had to a brother, or even a son.

The darkness of his palms seemed to sooth Peter, and reminded him to focus on the task at hand. He put his head on his clasped hands, and allowed his eyes to roam his office while he thought. He moved to get up, with newfound determination to try to find the ex-con.

As he did, a picture fell out of his pocket and onto the floor. Staring at it, he wondered where it had come from. His mind flashed back to the bloody alley, and the burning paintings that had rained down overhead. He bent down to pick it up, turning it over in his hands. Kate's ocean blue eyes stared up at him. They seemed to be pleading with him to allow Neal to return to her.

He threw the piece of the painting down on his desk, angrily. Even though he didn't trust Miss Moreau, they shared the common feeling of need for everyone's favourite con man.

He took another look at the painting lying on his desk. A question flashed through his head. _Why was this burning instead of the treasure? _The question was followed quickly by a flash back. To Neal's apartment, where he had been painting the Empire State Building, and claimed to have filled a storage room with "nerve-calming" paintings. A light bulb went off in Peter's head as he connected the two. He had the answer to the question that had put his friend's life in jeopardy.

He raced out of his office, nearly knocking the door off its hinges, heading towards the conference room.

Everyone looked at him questioningly as he barreled through the door.

A smile widened on his face, as he declared, "I think I know where our treasure is."

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Neal felt like he was sinking underneath the waves of a restless ocean. He trying to fight against the currents, but every time he tried to swim upwards he was shoved further down.

"Clear!" Something or someone in the ocean whispered. That wasn't supposed to happen.

A jolt jerked him upwards. Pain swelled through Neal's wet body, yet the jolt thrust him upwards. His hand could touch the surface of the water.

"Clear!" The ocean seemed to call out. The voice was no longer a whisper, yet a call, getting closer and closer to Neal.

A second jolt pushed Neal's head above the surface, and Neal opened his eyes.

But he wasn't in an endless pool of blue water, but a dirty boat's cabin, laid out on the floor, with his white dress shirt open. A woman's dark hair tickled his stomach, as she seemed to listen for a pulse. She looked up, sensing Neal's presence.

She gave a pained smile. "Welcome back, Neal. I thought that I had lost you." Worry etched itself in lines surrounding her eyes as she smiled.

She held two plate like things in her hands, resembling a defibrillator. She noticed his staring.

"You actually went into cardiac arrest, after Vincent Adler left."

She paused a moment, contemplating how much she should tell Neal. "I think that you may have collapsed, from all of your other wounds, and then that bastard slashed you right above your ribcage. The slash was pretty deep, and it caused you to lose blood flow to your heart, hence the cardiac arrest."

She took a shaky breath, and sighed. "Neal, you need a hospital, the pain is literally eating away at you." Her eyes flashed with anger, then the sadness returned to them.

She returned the defibrillator to her black bag, and pulled out some gauze and antibiotic cream. Carefully, using her index finger, she dabbed the cream along his slice on his usually pretty face. She winced along with Neal, every time she hit a sensitive spot. She placed the gauze over it cautiously, allowing the blood to clot under the pressure.

He felt the gauze also around his torso, pain throbbing just under the bandage.

With nimble fingers, the woman undid the bandage around his ribcage. Even though his vision was a bit blurry, he could clearly make out the deep gash that ran across his lower chest. Seeing his own blood made him feel sick, and he turned his head and vomited. His stomach contracted, causing bleeding to resume in his chest. Neal had to squeeze his eyes shut, and force his mind to think of something else to keep himself from throwing up again, which he knew would take it's toll on his body.

The woman carefully slid his head away from the puddle that Neal had made. She picked up a black towel like thing from her bag and pressed it against his ribcage. It was an attempt in vain, the touch cause Neal to thrash about in pain.

"Neal. Neal, you have to stay still. I know it hurts but you have to stay still." He voice was soothing, yet commanding. Neal made an attempt at a nod.

She tried a different approach. "I know that you are probably wondering who I am." She took a breath once she realized that Neal had stopped moving, and his eyelids began to close. She placed a hand on his face to keep him awake. "Well, I guess you could call me a fugitive doctor. I have been on the run for about a year now, after I stole money from my… boss' company."

"I work on the streets as a doctor, because… well, let's just say, Vincent Adler isn't the deadliest con in the world. I try to help others who get themselves in predicaments such as your own, by treating them when their captors are away."

Even though Neal could not talk back to her, he forced his eyes to stay open, and listened to the woman.

"Vincent is an interesting man. You are not the first person to be tortured in this room, let me just tell you. Vincent has quite a temper, and whenever I get word on the street that he wants something, I hang around here to make sure that he doesn't take things too far."

She paused again; her green eyes searched Neal's for some type of response. She had been so direct with her comment about Adler, that she was fearful that she had scared him. She didn't know what kind of man Neal depicted Adler as. Noticing that he was still awake, she took her cue to continue.

"I guess you can call me Isla. That's the name that I have been going by for a while now."

Neal's eyes followed her as she talked. Her hands were still pressed down on Neal's stomach. Her hair was black as night, and pin straight down her back. Her outfit was still the same, a black hooded jacket and black yoga pants. She reminded Neal of Alex.

She carefully peeled back the towel, and Neal looked the other way. She quickly grabbed the gauze again, and began to carefully wrap it around his knife wound, taping the loose ends to Neal's skin to keep it secure. He noticed when he looked back, that her hands were tainted with Neal's blood, which caused his stomach to do a slow roll.

When she turned to return the gauze to her bag, Neal could make out a rough outline of a gun, presumably pressed against her back. His breath hitched in this throat, as he realized that she was willing to go as far as shooting Adler, if it meant keeping her patients safe.

With her back still turned, she continued talking to Neal, "We will have to stitch up your gash, but I need to wait for it to stop bleeding first." She gathered up her things. "I cannot stay much longer, for fear that he may come back. But I will sit with you for a little while, if that's okay."

Neal attempted a nod again. It was too painful for him to speak. She set her black bag down near her, and sat crossed-legged adjacent to Neal. She carefully took his hand. She just looked over him for a moment, registering everything that Adler had done to him. Her heart was in her throat as she saw all of the torture that he had endured. The basic hell he had been through.

And yet, he was still awake and fighting. Barely there, but just enough to survive.

-o-o-o-o-

Inaudible footsteps stalked down the hall towards the fugitive doctor and the damaged con man. He looked through the small portal that was the only way to view the contents of the room. A shocking scene met Vincent's eyes.

There, seated with his captives was a familiar looking woman, her hand in Neal's, her eyes fixed on him. Shock turned to anger. He quickly whipped out the remote that was in his pocket for emergencies.

One push, and the entire room would soon be flooded with water. He had devised a system for his unwanted guest aboard the boat. One press of the button, he could drown them, leaving him with nothing to deal with, no blood on his hands. One press was all he needed.

Vengeance sparked inside of him. The treasure was supposed to be his. He wanted it, even if it meant killing over it.

The smile on the woman's face was the final straw. His index finger pushed down on the button hard.

He prepared to watch his people die.

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Well, I tried to make that as long as possible. Just let me know what you think! I know that it is not the best, but still, just let me know. I also know that not everyone is a fan of a back story for an OC character, but it was necessary in order to allow Neal to stay awake...

I hope to get some reviews as an early birthday present, yes? Please? Thanks again for all of you all's support through out this! I really appreciate it! :)


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Hey you all, I am so sorry that I did not get this up sooner! No excuses for the lateness, and it won't happen again! Thank you so much for all of the nice reviews, and please keep them up. And thank you also for the nice birthday notes! I love you guys

Genre: Angst/Tragedy

Rating: STRONG T

Characters: Neal, Peter, Elle, Evelyn, Violet, Diana, the Harvard Team, the doctor Isla, and Vincent Adler.

Parings: Umm, I will let you decide on that one!

Warnings: Rating. The usual, violence, torture, and blood. Medical stuff is BS, blah blah blah…

Inspiration tunes: Breathe (2AM) by Anna Nalick

Disclaimer: Not mine, I just want to take Jeff Eastin's characters and torture them for a bit. *evil laugh *

A/N #2: This section will be multiple scenes, as opposed to my normal two.

Enjoy, and as always I am grateful for reviews!

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The treasure was almost within reach.

Victory was just within his grasp, yet for some reason Peter felt doubt twist in his gut.

He was so worried about the condition of Neal; he could not focus on anything other than that.

He had not eaten in a while, and hunger gnawed at him. He could feel his blood run cold every time someone mention the name of Vincent Adler.

But what he was most afraid of was not making it in time.

He had seen the blood with his own two eyes. There had been loads of blood, enough to make even the manliest of men squeamish. He knew damn well that people could not survive a long time with so much missing blood. It scared the hell out of Peter.

The image of Neal in a puddle of blood, crying _Save me Peter, _made Peter want to cry.

He knew what Adler was capable of. The man was as smart as the devil, and sly as a fox. The man was capable of murder, even of an old friend like Neal. Even though Neal did attempt to con Vincent out of millions of dollars.

He knew how to take Adler down, and he was sure as hell glad to do it.

He wondered how much longer it would take. All of the teams were suiting up, for the seemingly easy mission they were about to embark upon.

He opened his desk drawer and pulled out his black gun. He brought out a magazine case, and slid them into the appropriate compartment of the gun.

He knew that one of those bullets would go straight into the chest of Adler. Right where his cold heart would be.

He marched out of his office and prepared the troops.

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The ride to June's house seemed like it took forever. The anticipation was killing Peter.

When June's housemaid opened the door, Peter signaled his group to follow him up the stairs where the con man resided.

He found the door unlocked, and the apartment unharmed. The room seemed disturbingly silent, as if it was a dog waiting for its master to return.

Peter found an index card on the table, with a disk underneath.

In black bold letters, the words, _You should know what to do with this Agent Burke _were written in perfect manuscript. He picked up the disk with shaking hands, and walked over to where Neal had a rarely used television.

He pushed the disk into the DVD player's box, and pressed the play button. A black screen appeared. The disk started with a voice.

"Hello Agent Burke. By now you have figured out the mystery of the treasure, or at least have some sort of idea about where it is. I am sorry to say that you will never find it Agent Burke. So my ransom dissolves. But it comes with a price."

He paused, taking a breath. "You cannot hunt me down, because I know that you will come after me."

An image appeared. It was a dirty room, with a woman in the corner, hanging onto life by a single thread. She coughed, and a drop of blood dribbled down her dirty chin. Her shoulder looked badly injured, with the shoulder of her lavender coloured shirt drenched in blood. Yet, oddly enough, a piece of gauze peeked out from under the fabric. Her bullet wound had been wrapped by gauze. Someone else was there helping the victims. Her eyes seemed distant, her hair messy. Her hand were shackled to the wall behind her, she leaned her body against the wall.

The camera focused on a different victim. He was lying down on his back, on the dirty prison floor. His dress shirt had been unbuttoned to reveal a gauze wrapped torso; the bandage had blood oozing from the corners. Right above it was a large slash mark, bloody, but seemed less disgusting than the other wound. A puddle of blood was near him on the floor of the cabin.

A few agents had to leave the room, and one threw up in the sink nearby.

The camera moved its lens up to a shoulder, also gauze wrapped, but there was less blood there.

Finally the camera positioned itself on the victim's face. His curly hair was extremely messy, with unknown debris making appearances through out his usually neatly kept hair. There was a slash mark running down from the side of his eye, to the tip of his chin. It had been bleeding, but had recently stopped. It did not look as bad as the rest of his marred face.

His eyelids were a shade of purple, and his blue eyes closed. His face was a ghostly shade of white, his lips almost bloodless. His nose looked broken, just like the rest of him.

"As you can see, Agent Burke, I have been taking great care of your friends. But I have a proposition for you. Pick up the telephone next to the television, and dial #2."

Peter did as he was told.

"Adler, this better be you."

"Nice to hear from you again, Agent Burke."

"Cut the crap, Adler. What the hell do you want?" He growled into the phone.

"A demand, of a sort."

"I am listening."

"You heard the first part of it, do not come looking for me. But there is a second part. I need you to let me disappear with the treasure."  
Peter brought the phone away from his ear for a second and thought. He considered having his agents back trace the call, but knew that that was excessively risky. He bit back a curse.

"And if I let you?"

"If you agree, I will let you know where I am hiding your friends. But you better hurry up, your friends do not have much time."

A new image popped up on the screen. One that scared the living hell out of Peter.

The cabin was filling up with water. Slowly, but surely. A woman supported Neal, who had tears streaming down his face, presumably from the pain that his motion was causing his gauze wrapped wound. The water surrounded his legs, and was rising. The woman was wearing a look of sheer anger.

"How long Adler?"

"What?"

"You heard me, if you want me to even consider your offer, tell me how long."

"Oh, I'd say they have a little more than an hour before they can no longer breathe."

The blood drained from Peter's face. The agents around him tensed.

"Adler." He whispered. "I… accept your proposition. Now where the hell is Neal Caffrey?" He shouted, his voice shaking with anger.

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Neal was scared.

His body, which was pressed up against the wall, was shaking. Tremors shook the young con's broken frame. Blood trickled out from the bandage wrapped tightly around his torso.

Neal felt like he was choking, as if the devil himself had his damned fist squeezing the life out of him.

His heart was racing, and his breathing came out in short choppy breaths. He thought he was going to throw up, but reasoned with himself, his mind telling him it was not a good idea.

He closed his eyes to stop the shaking. Thankfully, it worked, but the water was ice-cold, and he began to shiver. He took his good arm, and wrapped it around his knife-wounded stomach to keep himself warm.

He re-opened his eyes to find Kate standing in far corner of the room. She was smiling and gave a small inaudible laugh. Her bright blue eyes were twinkling. She reached out her delicate hand to Neal. She seemed to be saying, _Come with me, Neal. You will be happier here. _Her white dress blew around her.

Then Isla stepped into his line of vision, and the image of Kate disappeared into mist. His eyes filled up with tears, he would never see her while he was alive.

He bowed his head as if he was about to pray, and with his good arm, carefully wiped the tear from underneath his eyes. He felt so weak and vulnerable. He wanted to scream.

The unmistakable cracking of glass, jolted Neal from his sorrows. Isla hugged Neal, using her body to protect him from flying glass and bullets.

Apparently, Adler did not think that his captives were dying quick enough. He burst through the door, guns ablaze. Neal squeezed his eyes shut, and said a quick prayer about the safety of Violet, and Isla.

Isla moved off Neal, still shielding him from Adler. Her body stood directly in front of Adler.

"Why are you still here Miss Isla? I clearly remember I created specifically for prisoners, and as far is I can tell you are not a prisoner." He sneered. The gun pointing directly at her chest. "I have exactly 10 rounds of FMJ bullets. There are three of you. You do the math."

"Go to Hell Adler." She spat back. Swiftly she removed the gun from underneath her jacket. She pointed it at Adler. "I have twelve rounds, there is one of you. You do the Goddamn math. Put down you gun."

Adler held up his hand. He slowly moved to put the gun down. Then, it was about to hit the ground, he grabbed the weapon and fired.

Isla was just as quick. She wasted no time putting a round in between the eyes of Vincent Adler. Unfortunately, his bullet found it's way to her stomach. She cried out and fell backwards. Her body narrowly missed Neal. She began breathing hard. She put her hands where the blood was, and pressed down. Then her eyes got this faraway look in them, and she laid down. The labored breathing became silent.

Adler's body landed right next to Neal. His dark, cold, dead eyes stared deep inside Neal's soul. Neal let out a strangled scream as the blood poured out from Adler's bullet ridden forehead.

Adler was dead, but the water was still rising. It was almost up to his chest. With Isla hit, there was absolutely no way for Neal to escape.

He waited there, and prayed for his death to be quick.

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Please Review! They make me write faster! :) Hope you enjoyed it!


	6. Chapter 6

Hello readers! I hope you all are having a lovely week! I sure am! This weather has been awesome! :)

It has been a while since my last update, so here all of you go! This will be the last chapter in part one, but look out for the next one, but I am not quite sure what it will be called. Part 2 will be the recovery process of Neal/ the emotional turmoil he is facing.

G**enre: Angst/Tragedy**

**Rating: STRONG T**

**Characters: Neal, Peter, Violet, Peter's team, and a few others.**

**Parings: None but some reappearances from the "dead"….**

**Warnings: If you do not know by now… then you clearly haven't been paying attention!**

**Inspiration tunes: The Remedy, Jason Mraz**

**Disclaimer: My writing could never compare to the works of the marvelous Jeff Eastin.**

**PS: I am switching around the order of the sections… be prepared. ;)**

Enjoy, and as always, please review! Let me know what your opinions, they really matter to me! Even if they are anonymous! Or Critical. Please?

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Neal's ocean blue eyes reflected the water, silently inching up within the walls of prison Hell.

The water rose every few moments, like clockwork. Neal would count to sixty, three time, and the water would rise a few inches.

Neal's breathing quickened. His pulse raced. Blood thumped in his ears. The edges of his vision were fuzzy.

The water had risen to his waistline.

The amount of it had almost completely covered the body in the pool of water. Red tint danced through the water, like an ominous red ribbon, from the blood that had fallen from Adler's dead body, as well as injuries from every other victim in the room.

Isla's body was a few feet away from Adler's, closer to Violet. Isla was lying face up, painfully coughing and wheezing. She clutched at her stomach, trying to stop the flow of blood. Her hair was immersed in the water, and it fanned out around her. She could barely keep her head above the water.

Violet, in a desperate attempt to save her life, grabbed the near-dead Isla and slowly pulled her body closer to her own. Isla had cried out in agony, which to Neal was a comfort, for the woman was still alive.

Violet screamed from the pain that the act had caused her, and blood spurted out from the bandage covering her shoulder. A tear traced it's way down her dirtied face.

Adler's body was lying also face up, but the water had covered all but his face. Adler's stormy blue eyes were still open, and were staring up into the sky. His face had a grayish hue. Neal never liked dead bodies, and just the thought of Adler made Neal want to toss his cookies.

Isla's body was shaking from the pain of her stomach. She would once in a while make a whimpering sound, and sometimes cry out, but other than that the only thing heard in the deadly silent room was the trickling of water.

"Guess we… better start… practicing… holding our breath." Violet said, in a quiet tone. It was apparent that she could talk the clearest out of the trio.

Neal sort of nodded. He had prayed to every God in existence, even ones he didn't believe in, that Peter would make it in time to save Isla. He was past caring about his own life, all he wanted was for the others to be safe.

Kate had appeared again, and she was sitting quietly across the room from Neal. Her ghostly dress seemed to fade in and out with the rising water. Her blue eyes were waiting. Her outstretched hand getting closer to Neal as the time past.

Soon she would have him within her grasp.

Yet Neal seemed to con his way out of death, just like the life he had been locked away for. His body no longer felt the pain of his wounds, yet the dull ache of numbness that quietly plagued his body.

He looked to Violet and Isla, and thought to himself _They don't deserve this, why are they here?_ But the question disappeared back into his mind just as quickly as it appeared.

Kate was sitting closer to him now, just biding her time until they were once again reunited, but Neal didn't care.

His biggest battle right now was the fight to stay alive.

His eyes slowly fell shut, and Kate rose from the floor to go embrace Neal.

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In game where the enemy is the clock, there are only two things that can kill you.

The time heading faster than lighting towards zero.

And the person whose life you're playing for.

Peter stood in the shadows of an abandoned warehouse, waiting for the perfect moment to get his revenge, and ultimately save his friend.

Diana and Jones stood behind him, on looking the large boat quietly sitting in the water. The boat moved from side to side, like a pendulum on an old Grandfather Clock.

His Harvard Team stood a few feet behind him, prepping an ambulance as well as potential backup, if Adler came with force.

He counted to sixty and boarded the boat, silently motioning for his partners to follow him. They crept towards the door to the interior of the boat, and opened it.

And just like that, the three slipped into the darkness.

-00000—

No one had found the small crew, and Peter counted that as a blessing. Looking into every passing room in the unlit hallway, Peter's heart grew heavy with every door they shut.

When they re-entered the hallway, Peter heard the sound of water from the end of it. He reached out and grabbed Diana's gun held hand, and pulled her in the direction that Peter was going. He took out his cell phone, and used it to shine a tiny beam of light in the ever eerie corridor.

When his team reached the end, Peter heard the crumbling of glass underfoot. He shined the light downwards towards his feet.

"Glass." Jones whispered back.

Peter closed his cell phone and slipped it back into his pocket. He drew his gun, and looked into the shattered porthole. There was a sinister bluish light coming from inside the cabin.

To the right, were two, near dead women huddled closely near each other. The one on the right with wet jet-black hair, had blood staining her shirt near her abdomen. The one on the left, Peter recognized from the video as being another helpless victim of Vincent Adler.

Peter looked the other way and his heart jumped to his throat. The light cast a frightening glow over Neal's pale face. His arms were spread out in the water, which was now up to his chest, and his shoulders had gone slack. _No, he can't be._ Peter let the thought perish in his head. He was determined to save his partner.

The door was surprisingly unlocked. Peter held the knob for a bit, signaling to his partners to alert the team. Peter pulled the door opened, and allowed the water to wash out around his feet. The glass disappeared somewhere with it.

Peter stepped into the room, and almost immediately he felt something brush against his shoe. Vincent Adler's body was now laying face down at his feet. Peter bent down and rolled him over. Dead blue eyes stared up at him, along with a fully bled out bullet hole in between the eyes. Peter allowed the body to slump back over.

"It's okay. We're FBI, we aren't going to hurt you." Peter said as he walked over to where Neal was laying.

Jones and Diana went over to be with the women. But all Peter could focus on was Neal.

He sat his partner up.

"Neal. Come on buddy, don't do this to me." Peter whispered to Neal. His skin felt slightly cold. Peter checked for a pulse; it was barely there. Peter sighed, his eyes closed a bit.

"Neal, come on buddy. Keep fighting, you're almost there. Don't do this to me. You can't leave buddy. Just hang on a bit longer, they're coming. Come on, Neal hang in there." Peter started doing compressions on Neal's soggy body. A little bit of blood escaped from Neal's bandage, and settled itself upon Peter's fingers. He looked at it closely.

Peter's eyes were wild, holding back the wave of emotion, threatening to unleash itself from Peter's mind.

Sirens blared in the distance, but who the hell knew if they would be fast enough.

"Neal, don't make me say goodbye." He whispered finally.

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_I'll be back when you call me. No need to say goodbye. _

Sorry, that was what was playing in my head as I was writing this.

As always, reviews are what keeps me going.

PS: Who saw NCIS this week?

Epic? I think so!


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